William Wordsworth

Yes! Thou Art Fair, Yet Be Not Moved

Yes! thou art fair, yet be not moved To scorn the declaration, That sometimes I in thee have loved My fancy's own creation. Imagination needs must stir; Dear Maid, this truth believe, Minds that have nothing to confer Find little to perceive. Be pleased that nature made thee fit To feed my heart's devotion, By laws to which all Forms submit In sky, air, earth, and ocean.

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